


Taste of the Abyss

by Dragon Slayer Ornstein (Zerodas)



Category: Dark Souls I
Genre: Drama, Explicit Sexual Content, Happy end?, Love, M/M, and artorias, damn i love ornstein, dark souls shit again, my lovely wolf and lion, the fuckin Abyss, who knows - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-04
Updated: 2018-05-21
Packaged: 2019-03-26 17:03:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13862079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zerodas/pseuds/Dragon%20Slayer%20Ornstein
Summary: Ornstein leaves Anor Londo to search his beloved Wolfknight who travels the dark Path of the Abyss.





	1. Silver Pendant

He had never seen anything like it, and it absolutely terrified him- how it all could have fallen into this disarray, this madness, in such a short amount of time. Dying plant life drawing in and secreting the dark glistening ooze, sharp jagged crystals of deep purple jutting from the cragged rocks, inhuman-like shrieks and snarls of the corrupted and the damned from the crumbling buildings of the township, great fissures ripping the earth at its seams to form chasms so deep that no light could penetrate its black depths- it was none of these things that caused him such terror. It was that he knew Artorias was somewhere in there, in the heart of it all.

Despite his aching muscles from days of travel and fighting through the chaos to get this far, Ornstein picked up his pace. He left Anor Londo to go after him the very moment he knew Artorias had left, and knew he couldn’t be that far behind him now. Ornstein just hoped he could catch up to him before he crossed the threshold of darkness. The encroaching abyss was doing all it could to cover his partner’s tracks, but Ornstein could still follow the trail of battle Artorias had left in his wake. A tainted stone guardian lay in crumbles surrounded by fallen trees hewn clean through the trunk- bodies of living plant hollows skewed across the forest floor with various limbs detached and large slim holes puncturing their chest cavities. A little over-dramatic, but it was definitely Artorias’ work, and Ornstein gained a faint glimmer of hope as the scene of the massacre still seemed fresh.

The trail of destruction lead Ornstein through the woods shaded by its canopy of trees down into a near dry river in one of the fissures. At least down here it didn’t look so desolate. The water still looked clear for what little stream flowed, and the surrounding grass and vegetation still looked a lush verdant green. Before him now, stood a great stone structure- similar looking to a small colosseum, but towering high rather than wide. Beyond that, another great dark chasm, and the entrance to the ruins of the township of Oolacile. It was hard for Ornstein to believe that a land known for such wonders as Golden Sorceries could ever let such an event befall it. But it was still clear that the darkness ran rampant on the other side of the tower, and Ornstein was reluctant in having to enter. “Well there’s a mug you don’t see every day. Tell me, what brings the greeeat dragonslayer down here all alone?” The sudden audible sign of life startled Ornstein, and he whipped around, gripping his spear tight in hand. Standing before him, leaned up against one of the craggy walls of the gorge, stood a strange looking man. The garb he wore looked quite unfamiliar from the norm. A long overcoat with a tall collar with a top hat, but must unsettling was the mask he wore- porcelain smiling wide in an almost demonic manner. 

Ornstein gripped his spear tighter, snarling as he instinctively fell on his commanding nature. “And what business would someone like you have to be in a place like this? You are clearly no knight who wishes to challenge the spread of the dark. Your name- answer!” Even though the sneering visage of the mask covered his true face, Ornstein could tell that the oddly garbed man could care less about Ornstein’s orders, but responded none the less- perhaps more out of relieving boredom so it appeared. “Well forgive my intrusion then, dragonslayer. But you see, I am not from around here- or more so, brought here against my will. Not much to be done about it I’m afraid. They call me Marvelous Chester- a traveling merchant… of sorts.” Ornstein looked the man once over and glanced at his knapsack sat beside him which did indeed appear to be set up to hawk his wares. Ornstein, lowering his raised spear and turning to leave, replied “While I could stand here and accost you for trying to accumulate any profit in such dismal place, I don’t have time for idle chatter. I have urgent matters that require me to act swiftly or-“ ‘Or your friend who came before you, the Wolf Knight, will fall to the Abyss?’ Ornstein spun on his heels and lunged with lightning speed at the twisted man, pulling forward and slamming him back into the rocky wall behind him. He grabbed the merchant by the scruff of his collar and hoisted him a good foot off the ground. “WHERE?!” Ornstein roared as the man still seemed little more that amused by the lion’s brash showings. “Heh heh, yes indeed. Your Knight Artorias passed through here mere moments ago. I spoke not with him, but he seemed rather intent on making his way into Oolacile and to kill everything in his wake. Poor bloke didn’t even realize he dropped this.” Chester pulled the object from a deep pocket of his overcoat. “I was going to sell it back to him- have to turn a profit after all- so perhaps you’d wish to buy it back and return it to him instead?” Ornstein was about to lay into him for addressing the commanding knight of Gwyn so casually, but what he held in his hand made his heart drop. A thin chain curled up in his hand connected to a large decorative silver pendant which dangled gently from his palm. 

That pendant- that was the silver pendant that had been blessed with magic and given to Artorias to protect him from the dark. A power that when used properly, could repel the mind controlling corruption of the Abyss- like an invisible barrier for its wearer. If Chester had it, Orenstein realized, that it meant Artorias was diving headfirst into the Abyss without any way to protect himself – surely to be swallowed by the darkness. “Or perhaps you’d like it for yourself then? It’s probably already too late for your friend, as I’ve heard quite a myriad of new bellowing come from the tower over yonder just after your friend made his way in there.” Ornstein was about to rip the man’s throat right out of his neck for even suggesting at Artorias’ possible demise, when Chester chuckled devilishly, and held the pendant out to his assailant. “Fine, just take it then. I’ll gain it back and turn a profit either way once I strip your corpse clean if you plan on following your friend in there. I may not be from these parts, but I know more about this land than you ever will. And I can tell you one thing, it won’t end pretty should you decide to follow…Hehe, ignorant fools, you knights are. Can’t see beyond your duty to see what is really at play here… Just don’t say I didn’t warn ya.” Immediately releasing his grip, he let the man fall and crumple to the ground as he swiped the pendant from his extended hand. He would have to remind himself to return to kill the thieving merchant later, but now only his main goal was at the forefront of his mind, and he grasped his spear tightly in one hand and the pendant in the other as he sprinted toward the tower, praying to the lords he wasn’t too late.

Nestled in between a handful of trees stood the tower the masked man spoke of- a crumbling thing made of yellowing stone, with arched holes with columns across the gaps up the sides of the tower to serve as windows, with carved stone columns circling the very top enclosing it like a roofless pagoda. It stood between a large cliff face and a gaping pit one hundred feet across at least. At the far side of the abyssal pit, what was left of the Oolacile township sat on sheer cliff edges circling down into the darkness. The town seemed almost as if it was overlapping and collapsing in on itself as the darkness swallowed it further downward. Even with the surrounding foliage and the town itself in such a state of decay and morose, it was strangely beautiful in a morbid way- almost quixotic. But as screeches of twisted creatures echoed within the walls of the distant city, it reminded him that this land was no longer the shining beacon of sorcery it was in faded memories. Amongst the higher squeals and screams, a sudden guttural roar boomed- vibrating the very air around Ornstein. Then, a sound of shattering bones, ripping flesh, and splattering blood- and then, silence. A breath hitched itself in Ornstein’s throat as he imagined what demonic monstrosity the Abyss must have produced that could cause such a disturbance in the already unnatural balance. Ornstein had stared down the maws of dragons, and even defeated a mighty winged manticore that guarded the entrance to the Oolicile Sanctuary, but something about what lay beyond the tower made him shudder in a way that no other creature had before. For one, he noticed that at the only available entrance, a fog wall had been produced. Fog walls served as a type of illusory one-way door to keep intruders out, but certainly in this case as with many other powerful monsters encountered before, to keep whatever it was in. While not something generally taught to most knights- Gwydolin, a goddess of illusions in her own right, had taught the four knights of Gwyn how to erect the simplest of fog walls as a tactic that might help aid their soldiers should they need to protect a retreat. 

There was no way for Ornstein to tell how long the fog wall guarded the entrance or by whom it was created, but he could only believe it must have been Artorias, as it was thin and lacking any detectable magical agent to keep the smoke bonded well. Yet, here the wall stood. What could Artorias have possibly encountered that he felt he needed to keep from escaping? With a raised front-facing palm shaking violently, Ornstein pressed his hand into the fog deftly. He knew if he passed through the haze, there would be no way to return-not until whatever beast surely waited behind the swirling white cloud was defeated. But knowing it was all to protect his knight, his Artorias, he gathered newfound mettle and stepped through the misty barrier with fortitude.


	2. Corruptet

However, the moment the fog receded out of his vision, that fortitude had immediately broken- filling the space where his heart resided with a crushing weight of devastation that made him collapse to his knees. Tears welling up inside his helm, he croaked out in a whisper the only word that flooded his mind. ”…Artorias?”

  
    A familiar slender metallic figure stood in a hunch at the opposite side of the large circular enclosure. But upon further inspection, familiarities soon faded into stark unrecognition. His body leaned its weight into his right arm as he plunged the greatsword deeper into the already eviscerated bloat-headed creature on the ground. The chest heaved in rhythm with heavy raspy inhales and exhales- more like gurgling than anything- sounding like he was drowning with every forced breath. Everything from his massive sword and silver armor to his azure-blue capelet and helm tassel, was coated and continuously dripping and eroding with the same black puss-like remnants only synonymous with the Abyss itself. The legs wanted to buckle over it looked like, as he gripped the sword’s hilt tighter in one hand for balance. His left arm now noticeably dangled lifelessly at his side, with great scars tearing across the pauldron. The shoulder had clearly been dislocated. It was almost unrecognizable as a person’s form, looking and sounding more like a wounded, defeated, and distorted creature. But it was, indeed, Artorias- drenched in the liquid corruption of the Abyss.

  
    When the name near silently passed through his lips, the form that appeared to be Artorias paused in all previous physicality, and the hooded helm began to turn slowly to peer in Ornstein’s direction. The tassel fell back over his shoulder as his head stretched forward, tilting at odd angles as his body swayed unsteadily. The blue hood cast a deep shadow over his face. Only a menacing flash of eyes now discolored red glinted from beneath the soaked fabric. Ornstein desperately searched that shadow for any sign of recognition, but suddenly, the head and chest began to shake, and a mighty and aggressive gargling roar belted out of the crumpled Artorias as he finally noticed the golden-clad figure near the entrance. Ornstein, tears streaming down his cheeks, could no longer imagine a point in living any more, but in that moment he knew he had one final duty to fulfill. His hands trembling, he brought the chain of the pendant over his lion helm and let it dangle from his neck. Then, using his spear as leverage, he pushed himself to stand once more, though feeling ten times as heavy now. He gripped the spear with both hands and white knuckles, and gritted his teeth tightly. Voice vibrating as his emotions welled, he made one final vow. “I’m sorry, Artorias… I’m so sorry I let this happen to you. I will never be able to repent from this sin that I have caused you. But in this, your darkest hour, allow me to try and make things right in the only way I can now…. and send you from this world with thine honor intact.”

  
    A guttural bellow was the only vocal response once more, but as Ornstein took a step forward, a flash of silver, blue, and black suddenly burst forward. The greatsword had swiftly been ripped from the ground and the bloat-head’s body, and Artorias had dashed forward with never before known speed and flung the sword overhead in attempts to strike the lion down. The unforeseen swiftness of Artorias had greatly startled Ornstein, and it was all he could do to just barely raise his spear in time to partially deflect the blow, but was sent flying across the floor as a result of the impact. Ornstein coughing at the wind knocked out of him, had only time to even rise to his knees before Artorias was on him again. The sword crashed down again, and Ornstein quickly pushed off the balls of his feet to spring aside and tuck into a roll. Back upon his feet, he noted with fear in his mind as he attempted to block an incoming flurry of attacks the increased agility and strength of his opponent he reluctantly fought. The combination of the Wolf’s Blood and the Abyssal Corruption made an already fierce fighter something assuredly deadly. The only thing that allowed Ornstein to keep pace with the strikes was that Artorias’ one-handed wielding of the weapon caused his swings to be easily telegraphed. Mentally, Ornstein knew that the beast continuing its advance toward him was no longer the love he once knew, but his soul caused him to hesitate still- unable to raise his spear to return any attack. Clearly unobservant of his former ally’s distress, the tainted wolf knight continued erratic violent swings. He swung the blade wide and hard that he spun himself in a circle, and when Ornstein attempted to leap out of the way, he pounced high into the air above the lion’s head in a summersault, and rained the blade downward with a dynamic slash. That strange attack of graceful power and agility caught Ornstein by surprise, and the blade collided with his breastplate, and he was crushed into the floor in an explosion of stone.  
He lay on his back breathless, vision fading in and out for a long moment. He would have been dead if the corroded bladed hadn’t cause the edge of the blade to deflect off the curve of the chest armor so that the flat side of the blade hit instead. Regardless was still a damaging blow that had his head spinning and body aching. The armor was severely dented, and the shockwave from being flattened into the stone with heavy steel had surely caused one or two small rib fractures. The pain wasn’t apparent at first, but it soon radiated through him blindingly as he managed to hold onto consciousness, and he wheezed struggled coughs as air attempted to fill his lungs again. As eyes focused, he saw a shadow over him take recognizable form again, and he realized that the tainted Artorias had landed on top of him, legs straddling Ornstein’s hips and hunched over. The left arm dangled to one side of Ornstein’s head, the back of the hand dragging on the floor. In an effort, the blade was lifted with the right hand, and driven by the hilt into the ground less than an inch from Ornstein’s head, and the demonic wolf knight brought his face close to the leonine helm as he thundered a dominating roar- having captured his prey.

  
    He could feel his own hands empty now- his spear had flown from his hands as he collided with the floor, and it now lay several feet away out of reach. He didn’t bother attempting anything, he knew he was defeated. This scene- Ornstein on his back, weapon sent soaring, Artorias crouched menacingly atop his form with blade in the earth by his head as the wolf growled in victory- it was just like a certain private training session that held special in his memory. As a result, he knew from that previous experience that he had been bested, only this time death was surely imminent. Ornstein one last time, searched deep into the bloodshot eyes of his fallen love, hoping beyond hope to find any hint of lucidity. His face was still shrouded in shadow, but this close now he could make out the key details that told him there was nothing left- Bloodshot eyes with irises flooded red, dark swirling veins painted its way across a pallid white face like brilliant fractals, and ooze of the deepest black dripping from a corner of his agape mouth as he gurgled angrily, choking on what didn’t trickle out. Ornstein, final tears falling, saw as the hand gripping the sword’s handle let go and lowered towards the lion. He noticed the pointed tips of the fingers of the armor of his hand- like sharpened silver claws. Ornstein rested his head back, accepting whatever fate the wolf chose to end him. Perhaps he would use those claws to tear his throat out? He could only vaguely wonder. The hand lowered to his neck, and he felt his death near. Fingers then gripped around the metal rim of the neck of the helm. Oh? Perhaps he was wanted to gore his eyes out- shred and tear his face right off? Then, a single yank- the helmet came clean off and was flung aside, clattering to the ground not far from his spear- long and matted sweat covered red hair in a ponytail spilling over the floor. The hand that had tosses the helm had went back towards the throat again with claws bared, but the arm suddenly froze. Seemingly for the first time, the mindless beast of a man saw something- green. Glistening eyes of emerald green, staring with longing desperation through the flooded distance between them. And for a moment, the growling stopped. Ornstein was baffled as the man-beast hovered over him ever so close with, could it be what he detected-a fragment of shock? His heart skipped a beat. Ornstein shamed himself for having given his friend up for turned so easily, but it appeared even still the warrior battled his own mind for that last shred of self-control. The silver hand and tortured eyes trailed from the green circles to the river of red hair cascaded before him, and it gently picked up and held a few strands of the ruby river, delicately petting it with the index finger as it draped over the middle finger.   

The next thing he knew, the knight leaned forward, allowing their lips to touch. It wasn’t long before their kiss deepened, allowing Ornstein to taste the Abyss. The sludge dripping from the Abysswalker’s mouth was bitter, a murky, brackish taste, but hidden beneath it was the knight’s own taste, a taste that Ornstein found himself craving. 


	3. Abyss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What i have so far, will edit later, not that much time at hand atm....

The muck was chilling to the touch, yet it felt like burning in his veins as it permeated his skin and slowly began to spread. Regardless, when a tongue drenched with it forced its way into his mouth, he moaned in agonizing desire at the familiar act. For an almost indeterminate amount of time, the lion tasted his former lover and the wolf tasted his seemingly familiar prey. When Artorias eventually pulled back, Ornstein coughed and gasped for air, droplets of the abyssal sludge that had been swallowed sputtering up from their exchange. Ornstein lay there in an aching yet blissful haze. His heart struggled rapidly as it battled lust and toxin.

The beastly Artorias then did something else Ornstein recognized, and a different fear filled him this time. With an intimidating, almost seductive rumble, a familiar toothy side smirk and furrowed brow adorned his face- and Ornstein knew that face all too well. “Oh no…” A thought too late broken when the tainted silver right hand lowered below the waist. It gradually dove into the front of his own trousers and pulled forth a massive, throbbing cock- a frustrated deep maroon with tangible veins visibly pulsing- and, oh dear lords!, a fleshy tip leaking black discharge. While Ornstein gawked at the presentation- a snarl and a flash of silver- and Ornstein yelped as metallic claws tore straight through the seat of his pants revealing all, both back and front.

Subconsciously, he knew it was something he wanted, but seeing Artorias’ glory once again and it dripping rivulets of darkness, it caused him to panic like the captured prey he was, and he suddenly scrambled onto his stomach and attempted to scurry away in a crawl towards the entrance, forgetting even his spear in impending dread. Artorias’ head raised to follow the wounded lion, and he growled something similar to a chuckle, and Artorias dragged himself on (useful) hand and knees in a snarling flash, easily catching up to the crawling lion. The hand grabbed at ankles, then calves and thighs, and eventually hips as he dragged Ornstein back to him as Artorias advanced, and trumpeted several vicious wet barking sounds as he pulled Ornstein’s rear close to his front. Ornstein knew at this point now he couldn’t escape what was to come, and he froze in fear on hands and knees like a wide-eyed deer as Artorias prepared himself. The claws clamped down deep into the fat of the side of his right buttcheek, and Ornstein cried out as he felt blood trickling down his leg. Artorias’ legs sidled up lazily, making sure to have one to either side of the lion’s to close him in. Then he hunched over once more, face just behind Ornstein’s to the side of his neck, and with a curving hip adjustment of his own, angled himself, and impaled the lion with his immense and contaminated cock.

  
The wolf knight let out a satisfying howl as it slammed to the base, and the lion commander cried out in excruciating pleasure. Sharp thrusts jabbing while at the same time pulling Ornstein’s hips back into it and snarling with each one- viciously humping him like some feral animal in heat. Ornstein’s body rocked and jolted with the rhythm, causing more lustful yelling to spill out. Fresh tears pooled at his cheekbones and a few drops fell when they had collected, but they weren’t tears of denial and despair anymore. So many emotions where overflowing inside of him, but most of all tears formed because he never believed he would know a happiness and love like this again. It was much rougher than any time before- it was hard for Ornstein to think, but he could swear that it felt bigger than previous times. Who knew that power surge the abyss allowed would also increase that as well. Feeling every bulging vein graze his tender nerves inside, his own cock stiffened and raised. 


	4. Update

Just a simple Update letting you know that i sadly don't have the Time right now to Work on this, Work has me in a deathgrip atm and i try to get as much sleep as i can in between :< i'm terrible sorry for that, hope it will get better the next days.


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